Overload
by LickSkillet
Summary: Spock has always been proud of his emotional discipline. When the barriers fall down, there's only one person to blame; and blame him he will. Kirk/Spock.
1. Breaking Point

**Author's Note:** Uhm. It's official. I am such a Trekie now it's not even funny. I wanted to clarify; this story takes place in the _new 2009 movie._ "Loss" takes place in the Original Series. This story is mostly going to be INTERNAL MONOLOGUE by the best fucking character ever created who I love more than life itself. ... I mean, Spock. There will probably be moments when I switch to Kirk.

**Disclaimer;** Characters are copyright to Gene Roddenberry; Star Trek 2009 is copyright to J.J Abrams

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James Tiberius Kirk - Tiberius coming from his father's father; James from his mother's father. He is, in name, a perfect combination of his parents. That notion, however, is quickly pushed aside as one learns how much he reflects his father, George Kirk. James T. Kirk has a commanding, vibrant, charismatic persona; he is capable of seeing problems from several angles and is more than willing to meet them head on.

James T. Kirk is a stubborn, obtuse, brash leader whose decisions will one day lead to an earlier date for his already eminent death. His genius gives him a 'God complex'; that is to say, he believes himself to be invincible simply because his impetuous nature has gotten him out of a handful of 'scrapes'.

It was because of these reasons; Spock reasoned with himself, that he felt anger. No, that wasn't right. Vulcans should not feel emotions. What he felt … what he _didn't _feel-

The idea had nearly gotten every single crewmember aboard the _Enterprise_ killed. Spock had warned his Captain of this fact. However, the idea of passing through a Klingon sector of sub-space in order to avoid a star that had a less than point-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-one chance of imploding whilst they warped past was never doubted in the Captain's mind as a "totally good idea".

The impending firefight had been anything _but_ a surprise when a Klingon warbird un-cloaked as they slowed to an impulse-engine crawl across the border from the neutral zone. It had been close. As fate would always have it, warp drive refused to cooperate for exactly ten-point-one-five minutes, during which the _Enterprise_ suffered marginal damage to her hull. Precisely five crewmembers were harmed in the ensuing chaos, although they were discharged from medical with naught more than a broken bone at the worst. The Captain himself had even sustained a minor injury, though nothing severe enough to validate a stay in sickbay.

It was because of the illogicality of it all, the fact that Captain James Tiberius Kirk was acting obstinately truculent and refused to even acknowledge the fact that his rash behavior had nearly cost him his ship, that had created this violent dispute between himself and his commanding officer. The entire bridge crew was silent and unmoving. From where he was currently standing, Spock could only just see how Nyota appeared to restrain herself from entering the discord.

"This maneuver, Captain, was entirely unnecessary," To his own ears, Spock's voice was nearly overcome with unrestrained not-emotions. He had never been more grateful for his Vulcan discipline.

"Hey, we made it out alive, am I right?" Captain Kirk glanced around at his crew, clearly seeking some sort of approval for his reckless actions. Spock nearly scoffed.

"There was a less than zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero----"

"Could you just say 'million-to-one possibility', Spock? You make my head spin with all those zeros."

Spock's fists clenched at his sides, much against his will. "Captain, I am not …" he grappled for a term to put himself on his Captain's level, "I am not in the mood for your particular brand of humor. As I have said, the conflict with the Klingons could have been entirely avoided, had we simply warped straight by the star."

There was a ripple of shock palpable across the bridge; Spock theorized it was strong enough that even non-telepathic life forms could feel it. The only reason he could think of to verify such a reaction was his nearly subordinate behavior towards his Captain. Spock quickly assessed his mental barriers.

"_Mr_. Spock, I simply couldn't risk it. This old girl can survive a run-in with a warbird; I know that for sure. I didn't want to be needlessly risky by passing by a star that was that close to supernova. Besides, we only got a few scrapes." He ran his fingers along the bruise blooming across his forehead. "And we got to kick some Klingon ass."

The non-emotions suddenly overtook Spock. There was no logic to it. Perhaps it was the Captain's smug twist of his mouth, or the triumphant gleam in his eyes, but Spock's barriers came crashing down with a sound much like what he'd heard of Terran ocean waves.

Before he could understand this phenomenon, his fist had whipped out and cut across the Captain's jaw. What had once been silence on the bridge was broken by a crew-wide inhale of air. To Spock, it felt as if the universe has come to a standstill, even as his subconscious scolded him and reminded him that no such thing had happened, and that he was simply in shock. He had a _right_ to be in shock, he thought back at himself. His fist hung oddly in the air and he pulled it back to his side, arms locked straight.

"Spock!" It took a moment for his brain to process that the sound was coming from behind him, and as he turned he could see that Nyota's mouth was hanging open ever so slightly, her eyes wide and her pupils constricted. She, too, was in shock.

Although he did not want to see what this face will show him, Spock turned himself back around to gaze at his Captain. Captain Kirk was bent over, twisted sideways and back against Commander Sulu's console, his chin held loosely by his left hand. At the back reaches of his mind, Spock was sure that he should to say something, but everything that he thought to say was immediately deemed unworthy. He could not simply erase the fact that he had physically assaulted his commanding officer, his _Captain_, in front of the crew, with a simple "Sorry". The longer he stood there, the darker the skin of Kirk's jaw began to grow, a bruise to rival that of his forehead. With his Vulcan strength, Spock would be very surprised to learn that he hadn't broken his Captain's jaw.

The rest of the crew was still not making a single noise; it was almost as if they had become stone. Again, his subconscious scolded him for using such Human metaphors. Finally, the spell was broken when Kirk's eyes become focused and swiveled around in his head to catch Spock. Those blue eyes, icy and yet usually illogically bright and friendly, had lost their luminance and warmth. There is something to this change that struck Spock at his core. He could not stay on the bridge another moment. Before his not-emotions could overcome him again, he strode silently into the lift, eyes downcast until the doors become a barrier between himself and the crew.

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**End Note: **If you can't tell, I am beyond thrilled to be able to find HUGE LENGTHY WORDS for things like, ass. or nose. This will be a chapter-fic.... I think. Ya'll know the drill..

Also, I would really like to say that I do appreciate you all. You, YES YOU, are amazing. I am still getting favorites and reviews of my very first fanfic, "Chickenwuss", and I'm so immensely in love with you all. What you like about my crap I'll never know. 3


	2. Warning Sign

**Author's Note:** I'm so, _so_ sorry this took so long everyone. I know I should be doing quality over quantity, but I have a thing for long chapters. I'm also doing another 'making-this-up-as-we-go-along' things. Nothing too exciting this chapter, but in … the next chapter, maybe – (and if not that, I can guarantee it will happen in the fourth chapter) – will be more exciting. I promise.

There may be typos; please feel free to correct them.

**INSERT STANDARD DISCLAIMER HERE**

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The doors slid closed on the heated quarters of the _Enterprise_'s First Officer, shrouding the room in dimly lit shadows. As an afterthought, Spock keyed in a security code to keep his room sealed from all but the Captain, should he seek an audience. Spock sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that – he was in desperate need of meditation to calm his fraying focus and shattered control.

Stepping further into the room, Spock stripped from his science blues and into a knitted sweater. A sweater that smelled of the planet Vulcan and his mother—

Quickly re-routing his thought processes, Spock brought his attention to his mental barriers as he lowered himself cross-legged unto the cushions scattered on the floor in the far right corner of his room. He had to assess the situation at hand.

It was slightly harder than normal to settle himself and look inside; his heart rate was elevated above normal by two beats-per-minute, which made controlling his breathing more of a laborious task than it would have been otherwise. Once a calm physical equilibrium had been achieved, Spock closed his eyes and welcomed the quiet darkness of his inner thoughts. He took a few deep, centering breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, forcing himself to drop stray thoughts as they entered his mind. Within minutes, the familiar hum of the _Enterprise_ had ceased to exist, leaving the aching silence of his thoughts – or lack thereof – and he focused in on his emotional barriers.

They had taken him his entire lifetime to fortify. From childhood he had known them to be a necessity; his emotions had been the cause of much stress and self-loathing as a youth, even erupting to physical violence when taunted appropriately.

_Not quite unlike what occurred on the bridge today_, he thought coldly to himself, running mental hands along the smooth shimmering barriers. Only pain and suffering could come to pass by Spock allowing his emotions free reign, a fact made all the worse when his already stronger-than-average Vulcan capacity for emotions were mixed in with his Human emotionality and utter disability to place logic above all else. The Vulcan peoples had worked for generations over to create a strong balance in telepathic repression of their raging, carnal emotions in accordance with their overwhelming strength; Humans had done nothing of the sort, instead allowing themselves to be ruled by emotion rather than logic. Each culture's way worked fine for its own people, but together it created an explosive combination.

_Myself_.

The thought was bitter and jarring, causing a small pause in his search for the cause of his outrage on the bridge. Against his will, emotions flooded out, leaked out from unforeseen cracks along his barrier; _rage, frustration, self-loathing, disdain, bereavement, denial._ The emotions were concentrated and harsh. Outside of his meditation, Spock became aware of how he gasped in shock, taking gulping breaths against the uncontrollable onslaught. Not since he had been a child were there so many emotions in one place. … Not since Vulcan- Not since _the incident_ had he lost control this way-

There had been no reason for his reaction on the bridge. Spock and his Captain were known to disagree; today had been no different. More than that, Kirk was known to act on instincts, and more often than not, those instincts were what saved an away mission, or defeated the squadron of Klingons uncloaking to starboard. Why had he reacted so rashly to something as simple as his Captain being stubborn? No crewmember had been killed in the act, and it was not unknown the crew were tremendously loyal to their captain and would all die for him – a few cuts and bruises because of a brawl with Klingons was not something that would tarnish the reputation young Starfleet prodigy. However, Spock's reaction would do much to blemish his own.

A sudden spike in one singular emotion sent Spock's heart racing, his blood aflame; _rage_. How _dare_ he be so incompetent? It had been well over a year since he had lost _everything_ that had once been a part of him. He had categorized every severance, every loss of telepathic connections; had cauterized the stumps of growth that had once been fragile friendships, a flowering forest that had been his one truest friend and love, a twisted and gnarled, dead grafting that he had never wanted in the first place. He had become accustomed to the lack of presences, the loss of that soothing aura that had become so second nature as to completely ruin his composition. He had no excuse to still be bubbling over with emotions.

Spock, above any other, had exacted revenge for his people. In that split-second before he felt the strange sensation of the pull of the transporter's beam, speeding towards the belly of the Narada, he had been sure that he would die a martyr. The pain throbbing against his skull would be forever abated; he would meet with she whom he held above all others, even in death.

_Rage_ that he could not come to terms with himself, that the emotions he harbored closest to himself were the ones he had most need to throw away. Today's outburst was a prime example of how _explosive_ a combination he could become if this did not stop. He had thought his barriers sound, had believed them perfectly capable – had believed _himself_ perfectly capable—

Then, just a simply as it had begun, just as vehemently as the emotions had poured forth from behind their prison wall, they were sucked back inwards with a force rivaling that of a black hole. Spock was quick to reinforce his barriers, covering the glimmering inner layer with a thick, cold steel, followed by an interwoven barricade that resembled the gnarled, dead, reaching arms of plant life.

For what felt like an infinite amount of time, Spock took the time necessary to collect himself. When he was certain that he could stand, function, _think_ without a sudden outburst, he rose from his meditative trance to prepare a pot of tea and some incense. He pulled the sweater tighter around himself in a reflexive action that would merit later reflectance. There would be plenty of time for that. He would not leave his quarters until he could be positive that he would not cause anyone harm.

_He would not lose control again_.

* * *

When Uhura made a personal visit to his quarters at the end of her shift, five-point-oh-two hours after the incident, Spock would have been lying to say he was surprised. He stood smoothly from his meditation, placed his empty cup on the desk, and commanded the door open, revealing the linguistics officer in her red Starfleet issue uniform, hair pulled up in a strict ponytail.

"Hi," Her voice was gentle and quiet, a hint of pity and consolation detectable beneath. "May I come in?"

Spock nodded, standing to the side of the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. "Of course, Lieutenant." After just a moment of the door closing, Spock could already see the beginnings of sweat on her brow.

"How are you doing, Spock?" Uhura asked, looking worriedly into Spock's face, her gaze much unchanged, except for the sharp edge of a familiar scrutiny.

"I am of very good health," Spock replied, keeping his emotions separate from his voice.

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it," she scolded, actually managing to sound ever so slightly infuriated. Perhaps she was. Ever since their departure from a romantically inclined relationship, her patience for his literal-mindedness seemed to have decreased. However, if nothing else had come about from their having ever been in a relationship, Spock was sure that it was her ability to 'read' him like a well-versed, familiar novel.

With a tired noise, Spock ushered her further into the room, falling into his chair with as much grace as he could muster while she perched on his desktop, legs crossed in a manner that could be described as dainty, although nothing could be truly _dainty_ with Nyota Uhura.

"I have discovered my mental barriers to be insufficient in containing my emotions. I had thought that I could contain my emotional responses…. It has been _a year_," he paused, took a few discrete breaths. He was emphasizing words. Uhura seemed to be aware of this, as her eyes had widened and her pupils had dilated considerably, although it was rather dark in his quarters. "The old bonds have been taken care of—" Here, the woman visibly stiffened.

The end of their monogamous relationship had not come about on easy terms. Spock had merely been too overwhelmed with the loss of Vulcan, the loss of his… his entirety, everything that had made him _who he was_, that the thought of cultivating a new bond in a barren landscape had made him physically nauseas. However, they still were courteous to each other, and Spock believed that they functioned much the same, save for no longer engaging in physical closeness reminiscent of the sort of connection between two lovers. The Lieutenant was still his closest relation on the ship, to the point where, when he sat alone and mused over his days, Spock would sometimes call her a friend.

Spock wished he had not said those exact words. It was clear that she did not like to dwell on the past. However, it was not in his nature to purposely cause emotional pain. She must have understood this, for a tiny, sad smile appeared across her mouth before she nodded, urging him to continue.

"I have severed past bonds that have since ended; I can receive no more echoes from them. I was personally able to see to the destruction of Nero—"

The two of them did not breathe for a moment. The thoughts had begun to be too much to bear, and he feared that he would suffer another tidal wave of emotions should he continue.

"Spock, what you went through – what you're experiencing, it's completely normal…"

"No it is not." Spock's voice left no room for argument. "My emotions are _mine to control_. They are not to be the masters of me. Generations of working to prevent exactly what happened today have come to an end with myself. I have reinforced my barrier two-fold, and I will continue to be cautious around fellow crewmembers." He respectfully doesn't say something about how the only _real_ threat to his control appears to be a one Captain James T. Kirk. "However… I have begun to entertain the idea of achieving Kolinahr when we reach the end of our five-year mission. My outburst on the bridge has allowed me to be a disgrace to my people."

His quarters are silent and still for a long stretch of time, during which Uhura stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted some sort of physical deformity.

"Spock, you, of _all people_, are not a – a disgrace! Look at you – "

"I am, Uhura." Spock intercepted her comment, not thinking about the fierceness of his hissed words. "As one of the last remaining of a _scarce_ species, I can no longer overlook tradition. I am an example for Vulcan, for my people. I cannot allow such episodes to occur again." Spock paused for a moment, softening his voice and leveling his tone. "Still, I shall not make such a decision rashly. I will allow myself time to adjust to my new barriers. To use a common Human phrase, I shall 'sleep on it', and see how my emotions fair."

The words had such a strong sense of finality to them that it seemed all conversation had been finished. Uhura nodded her agreement to his idea, even going so far as to flash a gentle smile. As the silence wore on, Spock found himself perfectly comfortable to sit in her presence, but it soon became apparent that the Lieutenant was anxious to speak.

"Nyota, if there is something you wish to discuss pertaining to today's occurrence on the bridge, you may do so."

At the sound of her first name, the Lieutenant noticeably started. Spock had not thought to use her last name, unaware of how much it would affect her.

"…You know me too well," she replied after a moment, half-teasing, smiling shyly. At first, it appeared that was all she would say on the topic. "Spock… You really should go speak to the Captain."

At the mention of his Captain, Spock bristled. While the first emotional response he categorized was guilt, Spock was soon overrun by a seething irritation.

James Tiberius Kirk: a brash, rebellious _idiot_ who often pinned his success on superstitious, illogical _luck._ As a Starfleet Captain, his youth already set a hurdle for him in the views of 'Fleet officials. Combined with his carefree attitude, Kirk was both revered and scorned across the universe--

Spock stopped himself before the thoughts could get much worse. He was unsure where such vitriol had come from. While the aforementioned traits were of course true in some measure, James Tiberius Kirk was also a compassionate genius of a man who not only loved his ship but his crew as well. He was a firm believer in the idea that there are no 'no-win scenarios', as Spock had learned the first time they had met. His Captain was not perfect; he was flawed to a degree fitting of his Humanity, although the man himself seemed wont to forget such things, as he constantly was throwing himself in the line of danger as if he believed himself to be immortal.

"I … I do not wish to see the Captain at this time," Spock said softly, not sidestepping the truth. Uhura gave him a strange look, leaving him feeling like a petulant child quite against his will.

"Spock, you're his First. Together, you make a terrific team. One punch to the jaw is all it takes to wreck that? Whether or not you like it, you're his closest friend after McCoy – I hear that near-death experiences are good for bonding, or something." She smiled playfully, to which Spock responded with a raised eyebrow. "Look, whether you want to or not isn't the issue. You _need_ to speak to Jim." The fact that she had just called the Captain by his first name did not escape Spock's attention, but it did not surprise him. The Captain made a habit of telling people to call him by his first name when not on duty.

"He's been discharged from Sickbay, so you won't have to worry about running into McCoy," she continued, smiling knowingly. "Anyway, I have to go; I promised Chekov, Scotty and Sulu that I'd eat dinner with them. Please go talk to Jim. You have…" she quickly scanned the room, "-eleven hours."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Spock muttered, his tone clipped and rather irritated. He did not enjoy being dictated to. Rather than shrinking away, as others might, Uhura merely chuckled and advanced towards the door.

"'Bye, Spock. Good luck with the Captain."

For the first time he could recall, Spock was thankful to have some superstitious belief wished upon him. He could use to have events align in his favor for a small amount of time.

* * *

Spock sat alone in his quarters for precisely fifteen-point-six minutes before he took a quick sonic shower, changed into his Starfleet regulation Science uniform and set out to find his Captain. Because he did not wish to waste time playing 'hide-and-go-seek' with his commanding officer, Spock approached a computer terminal and requested that the Captain be located. He was to be found on Deck 7, in the gymnasium. Spock strode with purpose to the turbolift, passing very few crewmen in the process. Those he did see avoided his eyes and radiated fear.

While the crew of the Enterprise had always viewed him as an intimidating figure, there was something truly frightened in these people, as if they were afraid he would lash out at them without notice. Although he did not like to acknowledge it, Spock felt a pang of something akin to _hurt_. To be looked upon with intimidated awe was one thing; to be viewed as a monster was entirely another.

The ride in the 'lift was short; only two decks separated the senior Officer's quarters from the recreational deck that the Captain was currently using. The sterile silence and soothing hum of the turbolift dissolved into the loud din of crewmembers traveling like scurrying ants through the hallways. As soon as the lift doors hissed open, all heads pivoted towards Spock, and a heavy, unnatural silence engulfed the corridors.

"As you were," Spock offered, pushing through the throng and heading into the gymnasium for the singular use of the higher-ranking Officers. With the exception of Doctor McCoy, Spock was aware of the whereabouts of every other Officer, and as such knew that he and the Captain would be the only persons in the gymnasium at this hour.

The Officer's gym was divided into two 'halves', although that term connotes that both sides of the room were equal in size, which was not the case. One 'half' was dedicated to personal running-simulation cubicles, capable of projecting different landscapes as well as allowing the user to set different atmospheric and temperature settings. There were also free weights set about, some strange elliptical-like devices that were supposed to simulate bicycle riding – an activity that Spock did not ever plan to, nor had he ever, indulged in. Through a set of matching doorways to the right were men and women's locker rooms – strictly for Officers – that connected to a pool and sauna, for both Officers and crew.

To the left was the open sparring area. While there were practice bags hanging securely from the ceiling, as well as a few that bobbed from springy poles anchored to the floor, the majority of the room was laid with a soft, two-and-a-half-inch thick mat for hand-to-hand combat practice.

As Spock stood in the doorway, it became evident that his Captain was not in the first 'half', but was in fact in the sparring area. With a subconscious tug on the edge of his shirt, Spock moved to the door, which slid open silently enough that he was able to escape notice.

The Captain was deep in a storm of vehement punches and kicks against a dangling bag, although his aim was rather erratic. In their year of travels aboard the _Enterprise_, and in the fifty-six incidents that had occurred and lead to physical violence, Spock had never witnessed his Captain fighting with such a lack of finesse. What Spock was viewing was not something for him; it was a Human mechanism for venting fury. Kirk's shoulders were taut with unreleased hostility, the thrusts of his fists against the bag stiff and harsh, instead of loose and sharp. The sinewy muscle of his arms was pronounced, seeming to bulge, as if held constantly flexed and tight with incense. Most shocking of all, however, was the scraped appearance of his hands, which were eagerly oozing blood unto the smooth grey floor. Spock's own hands twitched behind his back.

After two minutes had passed, and the bleeding had progressed to the point where Spock began to be concerned, he took two loud steps forward, allowing his shoes to ring out against the floor. At once, Kirk spun around, arms pulled up as if preparing to throw a punch, bouncing lightly onto the balls of his feet. From this angle, Spock could clearly see the blossoming bruise along the Captain's face. The color had become a vibrant blue-purple, seeming to bleed into his cheek and jaw line, even as it crawled upwards under his right eye. The color alone was enough to make Spock's stomach lurch; he would never be fully accustomed to remembering that Human blood was not the same vibrant green of his own; the difference was alien and off-putting. The mark also re-opened a spike of guilt, which Spock quickly pushed behind his barriers.

"Captain," He inclined his head slightly in a more formal greeting than per normal, as he felt the situation called for it.

"Spock." Somehow, his Captain managed to sound both shocked to see him and resigned to his presence, as if he had been expecting no other. Belatedly, Spock realized that his Captain had not, as he normally would, pleaded for Spock to call him by his first name.

"I did not mean to intrude, Sir. I merely wished to …" To what? To apologize? No words could make up for his actions on the bridge today. "I wished to offer my sincerest apologies for what occurred today. For what it is worth, I believe the phrase is 'I do not know what came over me'."

"Spock…" Kirk turned from him for a moment, seeming to admire the view that could be seen through the wall of transparent aluminum that ran the length of the sparring area. "I… It's okay."

Spock felt his eyebrows shoot upward at the simple reply. As if he had made a noise, his Captain turned around, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

"Fuck, no, it's not _okay_, Spock. I didn't mean it like that." The Captain paused, his face contorting for a moment before there was a hiss of pain and a colorful word or two and he relaxed his face resignedly. "Damn it. What I meant was… I _know you_ Spock. For God's sake, we've _bled _for each other. I know that you didn't mean to hurt me." The sincere acceptance of Spock's apology and the warmth in his words were belied by something that sounded like a quickly coming rebuttal of his previous statements.

"But…" Spock allowed himself an internal shudder at that tone; it was purely _CO_, and it spoke magnitudes that this voice was being used against him. "I don't mean to be a broken record, but I _know _you. You haven't gone after me like that since-"

The air was tight for a moment as they both averted each other's gaze. Spock did not need his telepathic abilities to guess what incident his Captain was speaking of.

"I'm just saying, this is severely out of character for you. Are you all right? Have you had time to meditate?" As if trying to stop himself, Kirk suddenly clamped his mouth shut with an audible _click_ of his teeth. Spock inclined a brow. "Sorry. I just- I don't want to pry, Spock. You're allowed to have a private life. But … If something's wrong that could impede your abilities—"

"I am in no way unable to perform my duties, Captain." Spock interrupted. "I am perfectly well, and have allowed myself plenty of time to meditate." He was aware of the slightly defensive edge to his voice and took a few centering breaths, trying to compose himself. "I… I have been meditating in the time between the incident this morning and our meeting now. I can find no reason for my outburst on the bridge." Spock suddenly felt as if he were repeating his earlier conversation with Uhura.

"Still, I want you to go see Bones, just in case." Although Spock had thought his face to be unreadable, his Captain, upon looking him in the eye, quickly continued. "Yes, this is a goddamn order. And I don't mean waltz in, get him in your sights and leave. I mean go in, sit down, and let him stick a tricorder up your ass if he wants to."

Spock had never heard the Captain speak so crudely when directed at himself and the ship's CMO. However, it was rather clever, and he was quickly trying to fight down a quirk of his lips and a wave of amusement.

"Of course Captain."

At that, Kirk gave a loud huff of a sigh, casting his eyes down and seeming to suddenly notice his fists. His eyes grew wide to the extent that it could be considered comical.

"You yourself seem to be feeling rather… _agitated_, Captain. Are you well?"

"Hmm?" Kirk had walked over to the replicator and procured a roll of bandages, which he was diligently wrapping around his knuckles. "Oh, I'm fine Spock."

"If I may, Captain. I trust… I _hope_ you were not expressing displeasure at me through your earlier exercise."

Kirk's face went blank for a moment before his eyes widened further and his mouth gaped open and closed, rather like a fish.

"If it would please you, Captain, I am certain a better substitute could be procured."

After a moment of shock, his Captain's mouth twitched upwards in a sad smirk, a dark chuckle rumbling through his throat.

"No, it's alright Spock. I'm not so angry anymore."

* * *

At the beginning of the next Alpha shift, Spock came to learn that the star they had wished to pass had, in fact, gone supernova. After running a few calculations and one simulation, he was able to discern that, had they passed it the day before, they would have been lost in the impending explosion.

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**End Note:** Someone gave me the idea to make the star go supernova. If you remember who you were, please let me know! Your review is somewhere in the piles of stuff I have in my inbox. D: I'm hoping the next chapter will be faster in coming, but it may end up being shorter. We'll see.


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